FAKE FIVERS

‘Is that real?’ he said holding up the five pound note I’d just given him, payment for a double expresso in the new Costas. ‘It looks a lighter colour than usual.’
‘It should be real,’ I said slightly flustered. ‘It came out of a machine.’
‘Friend of mine down where I used to live,’ and he said the name but I didn’t get it, ‘got a fake fiver a few doors from the newsagent he tried to spend it.’
‘What happened?’
‘He got a receipt from the police.’
‘You wouldn’t think it was worth forging fivers, would you?’ I said.
‘No, it’s usually twenties,’ he said, and shrugged his shoulders, raised his eyebrows then gave me my change.